


The Lover, The Thief: Short Stories & Prompts

by speedgriffon



Series: I Shall Taunt You a Second Time | Dragonborn Fiona Fics [15]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Established Relationship, F/M, Flirting, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Implied Relationships, Implied Sexual Content, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-07
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2019-10-23 18:44:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 15,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17688860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/speedgriffon/pseuds/speedgriffon
Summary: A collection of short stories and prompt fills for the pairing Brynjolf x Dragonborn (my OC Fiona, Female Nord). Themes/Prompts will be in the chapter summary/notes. Most stories are teen+, but others will be marked as needed. Stories are in no particular order but are all part of my "series" which you can find on my main Ao3 page. I've marked were certain stories take place in that series for your convenience! (Updated collection title!)





	1. Safe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "I'll keep you safe"   
> (Takes place before "Sweeter Than Honey" in the main Bryn x Fiona series)

Returning to consciousness was always a strange thing, Fiona thought. It was a confusing battle of piecing together what had happened, if the last memory she had was recent, or far away. She smelled honey, and felt a fire nearby. There was a familiarity of the surroundings she could sense, and assumed she was home at Honeyside.

With an unwelcomed guest in her bed.

Fiona didn’t bother to open her eyes. “What are you doing here?”

A short, deep chuckle. “Don’t you remember inviting me to stay in your bed?” The voice confirmed her suspicions. “You practically begged,” Brynjolf continued.

“I was poisoned, not brainwashed,” Fiona countered, remembering. _That’s_ why her body ached. She peered through one eye just as he brushed a few fingers across her brow. “I told you to sleep across the hall.”

“You did?” he hummed, feigning ignorance. “I must’ve missed that part.”

She turned her head and finally looked at him. He was on his side, head propped up on his palm. He glanced down at her with same sly grin he always sported. His other hand idly ghosted across the side of her face, tucking loose strands of her icy blonde hair away. Fiona decided not to swat his hand away just yet.

“And you didn’t take advantage of the situation?”

“Tsk, tsk,” he clicked his tongue. “You think so poorly of me.”

“Your reputation precedes you,” Fiona said. “Sweet talking your way into women’s beds to take advantage of them.”

“You make me sound like a common lecher,” he argued with furrowed brows.

She smirked. “And you aren’t?”

“Lass,” he paused, as if for effect. He had picked up on how this calling of her made her cheeks warm. “If I took advantage of you, you’d know.”

Fiona couldn’t say she didn’t like his sultry tone. For once, she couldn’t think of a witty response. Maybe the poison had gotten to her head. She kept eye contact with him and he perked up an eyebrow.

“Does that excite you?” he asked coyly.

She shrugged. “No.”

He didn’t react, as expected. All part of their game. It was always like this with them, testing the limits of their unconventional not-so-friendship. One day, she’d have to ask him if there was any truth to his endeavors. For now, she was satisfied to have his attention.

Her thoughts drifted back to the numbness she still felt across the majority of her right side. “I’ll be useless in a fight—”

“Don’t worry,” Brynjolf leaned closer, interrupting her. “I’ll keep you safe.”

Fiona blinked at him, not pulling away right away until he had dared to dip towards her lips. She turned her head, struggling not to laugh at the small gasp that escaped him. He should know he wouldn’t have her _that_ easily.

“And yet, here I am.” She moved her hand over the large bandage across her stomach. “Wounded. Poisoned. Some help _you_ are.”

When he frowned, she smiled. He caught on to her tease and relaxed, shifting his body closer to hers.

“Do you want me to leave?” he asked. It was somewhat serious, as if he was actually concerned that he didn’t belong. But he was also asking so that she’d have to answer.

Fiona shook her head, closing her eyes again as she leaned against him. He was warm, and she didn’t want to lose that so soon. “Not yet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> say hello over on tumblr @ eeveevie (and prompt me for more bryn x fiona! :) )  
> kudos and comments are always appreciated :)


	2. Hideaway

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Needing to kiss to hide from bad guys  
> (Takes place after "Sweeter Than Honey" in the main Bryn x Fiona series)

Guards—of course there had to be guards. Right as they had left the house in Windhelm, she heard them approaching. With her pockets filled with valuables from the estate she had just robbed, it wasn’t the best timing. She was in a dead-end alleyway, the wall behind her too tall to scale. And she wasn’t alone.

“This is all your fault,” Fiona muttered under her breath. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Brynjolf’s offended reaction.

He scoffed, pointing to himself. “ _Me_?”

Fiona stepped backwards, bumping into him as she tried to hide against the shadows. It wouldn’t do. With the snowfall, their black clothes were dusted in white—not the best thing for a thief.

“You’re bad luck,” Fiona kept her voice low as the guard’s footsteps drew closer. “Every time I bring you along something like this happens.”  

She could almost sense Brynjolf’s pout. “I have an idea.”

“What?”

His hands came to rest on her hips. “The guards won’t bat an eye at public displays of affection.”

“You just want an excuse to kiss me again,” Fiona replied. She turned her head for a brief moment to catch his eye.

“Possibly,” Brynjolf’s voice circled around her ear, and he pulled her closer to his body. It sent a shiver down her spine, though she hid it well. _Gods_ , she really hated the way he made her feel sometimes. “Am I really that dense?”

When she saw the guard’s shadow fall into alley, she turned in his arms. His plan was better than the alternative. She didn’t have time to roll her eyes at his smirk before kissing him, holding onto the front of his Guild armor. Brynjolf eagerly kissed her back, and he squeezed at her waist in a desperate attempt at pulling her closer. Fiona focused on the sound of the guards quickly passing, their voices incoherent as they moved on from the alley without a second glance.

“Brynjolf,” she mumbled against his lips. They were in the clear—this _distraction_ could end. But why hadn’t she just pulled away? “ _Bryn_ —”

He moved them instead, pushing her against the nearby wall as he kissed her harder. She snaked a hand up to his face, fingers curling around the base of his neck and into his hair. _Why_ did he have to be so good at this? At their game?

He pulled away with a breath, eyes shining as he grinned at her smugly. “You can’t say my name like that and expect me _not_ to react.”

Fiona just copied his smirk, tugging at his collar. “ _Brynjolf_.”

She got just the reaction she was hoping for. She could stay in this charade—this alley—for a little while longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> say hello over on tumblr @ eeveevie (and prompt me for more bryn x fiona! :) )  
> kudos and comments are always appreciated :)


	3. Fever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: “You’ve got a fever, of course I’m not going anywhere.”  
> (Takes place after "Together" in the main Bryn x Fiona series)

Mercer was dead.

Fiona, Brynjolf and Karliah had barely gotten out of Irkngthand with their lives. Anything that could’ve gone wrong did.

The group took shelter in Windhelm, Elda at the Candlehearth Hall giving them a few rooms for shelter. It helped that the Guild had a foothold there—Fiona didn’t want to rely on her backup plan of cashing in a favor with Ulfric. She and Karliah would share one room, while Brynjolf had his own.

Admittedly, Fiona was worried about him. He had been quiet on the short trip to the city, slow to respond to any of their conversations. It was understandable—Mercer had placed a hex on him, altering his mind. If that wasn’t bad enough, he had nearly drowned when the cavern flooded. Fiona couldn’t tell if he was navel-gazing due to a near-death experience, or was actually unwell.

It was only after Karliah fell asleep when she slipped away, wrapping her cloak around her nightdress as she entered the tavern hall. It was late, but a few guests were still lingering in the common room. She regarded them with a silent nod before leaning against Brynjolf’s door to listen. She heard some shuffling, a sneeze, a groan, and then tumbling—like a body hitting the floor. Without a second thought she let herself in, disregarding the fact he had left the door unlocked.

Inside the room she found him in a heap on the floor, conscious, but in a daze. She rushed to his side, struggling to keep her eyes locked on his face when she realized he was practically naked, clearly in the process of changing from his still damp clothes. He blinked hard, as if he wasn’t sure if she was really there.

“Lass?” he questioned in a hoarse voice. “I don’t—.”

Fiona regarded him with sympathy, tucking her arms under his to help him stand. He rested against her, and she flinched slightly when his exposed lower half brushed against her thigh. He hadn’t done it intentionally— _this time—_ but it still sparked a warmness within that she desperately wanted to ignore.

“Have you ever tripped over your own pants?” Brynjolf asked. He had turned his head downwards so it rested against her shoulder. The longer he stood there in her arms, the more she realized just how burning hot his skin was. It wasn’t just _her_.

“I can’t say that I have,” Fiona replied. She leaned away slightly to look at him, frowning at the glaze in his eyes. It took a little bit of effort, but she eventually got him to the bed, ensuring he was steady on the edge before pulling away. Quickly she took the bedsheet and covered his lap.

Only then did he seem to catch on with a smirk. “Don’t be embarrassed, lass. Nothing you haven’t—”

“You didn’t lock your door,” Fiona interrupted as she turned away to rummage through his pack for dry clothes. “Expecting company?”

It wasn’t much of a tease. He softly chuckled, but it turned into a cough. “I was hoping for this exact scenario.”

Fiona shook her head, returning to him with a shirt and pants. She decided to help him, knowing that among Brynjolf’s plays, even he wasn’t crafty enough to pretend to be sick. Still, he watched her with curiosity as she rolled the shirt over his head, taking his hands one-by-one to tuck them into the sleeves. Keeping the bedsheet in place, she removed his trousers and carefully slid each of his legs into the new pair.

He swatted her hands away, shifting to pull them up the rest of the way. Fiona stood up quickly, hating to think what a promiscuous position she had just been in, kneeling before him. Brynjolf’s discomforted sound caused her to switch her focus. He looked _miserable_. Hesitantly, she pressed the back of her hand to his forehead, his eyes going cross as he tried to look.

“You’ve got a fever,” she said. “It was that water. Walking in the snow didn’t help matters.”

“Woe is me,” he responded sarcastically. For a moment, his expression turned serious. “My head is still…muffled. Like Mercer’s damn spell is still lingering. It’s unnerving.”

Fiona frowned, and moved her fingers in a gentle sweep through his hair. She repeated the movement, having the calming affect she intended as his eyes fluttered closed. After a few moments, his hand wrapped around hers at her side. Brynjolf leaned into her touch.

“You’ll stay?”

He had asked this question on numerous occasions, with minimal success. But this time, his intentions were not for the sake of debauchery. No, Fiona picked up on the sincerity of his tone, as if it was almost a plea for her not to leave him. Not now.

“Of course,” she answered. “I’m not going anywhere.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> say hello over on tumblr @ eeveevie (and prompt me for more bryn x fiona! :) )  
> kudos and comments are always appreciated :)


	4. Predictable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: “routine kisses where the other person presents their cheek/forehead for the hello/goodbye kiss without even looking up from what they’re doing”  
> (Takes place after "After the Storm" in the main Bryn x Fiona series)

Fiona stood over the Guildmaster desk, looking over the information she had found at Mercer’s house. It was a map, of sorts, drawings and diagrams detailing his plans to steal the Eyes of the Falmer. His writing wasn’t the easiest to decipher, but it was clear that Mercer was heading to the Dwemer ruin of Irkngthand. As soon as Fiona delivered the news to Brynjolf and Karliah, their plans were set—the dark elf left the Cistern to scout ahead, giving Fiona and Brynjolf the time to settle matters with the Guild before leaving as well.

She looked at the bust of the Gray Fox she had taken from the disgraced Guildmaster’s house—the dead eyes of the statue only unnerved her. Instead she glanced up to see Brynjolf organizing his gear at his Cistern bed, inspecting everything before he put it on his body. Fiona was reminded of how often she had watched him do this, memorizing the order of his actions.

First was always his armor, shining the Guild symbol on his shoulder with his thumb. Then came his belt, Brynjolf running a cloth across the blade of his ebony dagger before hilting it at his waist. He tucked a pair of leather gloves at his belt as well—not that he ever used them. She continued to watch, the repetition calming Fiona. Ever since returning from Snow Veil Sanctum, she had been looking for some kind of normalcy—if you could even find such a thing as the _Dragonborn_.

Brynjolf moved across the Cistern walkways towards the desk, and she lowered her gaze back towards the map. There was something else that she hoped was still part of his routine. Fiona tried not to get her hopes up as she saw him approaching from the corner of her eye, leaning on one arm against the desk next to her. She tilted her chin slightly, presenting her cheek in anticipation without looking away from the desk. When nothing happened, she blinked at him, curious. Brynjolf wasn’t even looking at her, his focus on Mercer’s notes.

“Oh,” she muttered, trying not to sound so disappointed. Perhaps things _had_ changed between them since her return. He flicked his gaze up to her face, and she resisted the urge to flinch away, noticing just how close he was standing next to her.

“What is it, lass?” he asked.

Fiona hesitated, quickly raking her teeth over her bottom lip nervously. “You always used to kiss my cheek after getting ready for a job, before you leave,” she explained.  

Brynjolf’s brow perked up, as if it was news to him. Realization dawned on him shortly after and his smile only increased. “I didn’t know I was so predictable.”

“I see _right_ through you, Bryn,” she teased in reply.

“Aye,” he replied. He continued to just stare at her with a small smirk pulled at his lips—at least he seemed to be back to his usual self. “And I you, Fiona. Waiting for me to kiss you. I always knew you found me irresistible.”

Fiona rolled her eyes despite the gooseflesh she could feel rising across her skin beneath her clothes. “In your dreams.”

Brynjolf didn’t bother feigning offense as he usually did. Instead, he rested his hand on her back, leaning down to press his lips to the side of her face.

“For luck,” he explained with a soft chuckle. She knew, and smiled. “We’re going to need it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> say hello over on tumblr @ eeveevie (and prompt me for more bryn x fiona! :) )  
> kudos and comments are always appreciated :)


	5. Sound Advice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: The way you said "I love you": loud, so everyone can hear.  
> (Takes place after "Together" in the main Bryn x Fiona series)

Fiona’s laugh echoed through the Flaggon as she talked with Tonilia, the two women chatting about something Brynjolf wasn’t privy to. She had been making the rounds that evening, talking with various Guild members and assigning jobs, all before she was due to leave on one of her own.

Brynjolf watched her the entire time from his spot at the bar, leaning against the tabletop with his arms crossed. He smiled to himself, despite the fact he knew she would be gone for an unspecified amount of time. For the first time since she took over as Guildmaster, she wasn’t planning on taking him with her as a companion. There was still rebuilding to be done in Riften, and she trusted _him_ to oversee that it was completed in her stead.

 _Divines_ —he would miss her.

“You really should just tell her how you feel,” Delvin mumbled beside him, nursing a small cup of brandy.

Brynjolf glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, annoyed by his smirk. “The lass knows.”

“What, that you _love_ her?” Delvin questioned. “Never heard you say it, not that I can recall. Meanwhile she’s never shy to tell you—”

“I don’t need to—”

Delvin’s elbow hit him sharply in the side. “Don’t fuckin’ interrupt me when I’m giving you advice.”

Brynjolf rolled his eyes. “Is this what you call advice, now?”

“The two of ya’ are insufferable with your devotion to each other,” Delvin muttered. “Anybody with even half a brain would call you lovesick.”   

Brynjolf really could deny it without being a liar. He cared for Fiona, more than he had ever cared for anyone before—more than he cared about himself and the Guild. He knew about lust, and had plenty of passing affairs in his lifetime, but he hadn’t really considered what _love_ would or could feel like. A rather loud voice in the back of his head was screaming it was something like _this_. He dreaded the thought—was Delvin right?

“Fiona doesn’t mind that I don’t…” he trailed.

“Oh, trust me. She minds.” Delvin shook his head. “Don’t tell me you’re chicken,” he taunted.

Brynjolf ignored him, straightening as Fiona finally approached.

“Chicken?” she repeated after Delvin. “What about chickens?”

“Nothing,” Brynjolf assured quickly before the other man could say anything. He glared at Delvin until finally he moved away to the opposite side of the bar.

“Okay,” Fiona laughed breathily before focusing her attention on him. Her hands rested against his chest. “If I leave now, I’ll make good time to Falkreath before sunrise.”

Brynjolf nodded, wrapping one of his arms around her waist as she leaned up to press a quick kiss to his lips, followed by his cheek. She lingered near his ear.

“I’ll send word as soon as I arrive,” she whispered. “Don’t get into too much trouble while I’m away, love.”  

“No promises,” he replied. Fiona pulled away slightly, and he felt a wash of nerves settle in his gut with the way her eyes shined up at him.

“Good,” she said with a wink. She was smiling. “I love you, Bryn. I’ll see you soon.”

Fiona slipped away from him, turning away as she made her way towards the Cistern entrance. A part of him felt guilt that she already expected him not to reply in kind. Another part of him felt spurred on. The further she moved away, the more his heart raced.

Then suddenly, he blurted, “I love you!”

Her footsteps froze in place, and nearly everybody within the Ragged Flaggon turned to stare at him, gob-smacked. Delvin let out a loud, shriek like laugh as he fell out of his chair, and Brynjolf reminded himself to find some sort of revenge later. His face was burning—his whole _body_ was burning—and yet, he felt a weight he hadn’t realized he’d been carrying float off of his shoulders.

Fiona slowly turned around, tilting her head to the side with a large, toothy grin. She had been waiting for him to say it, and Brynjolf could see the joy in her demeanor. _He_ had done that—it was a good feeling.

She nodded once.

“I know.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> say hello over on tumblr @ eeveevie (and prompt me for more bryn x fiona! :) )  
> kudos and comments are always appreciated :)


	6. Effortless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Wanna dance." and "Damn. You clean up good."

Windhelm wasn’t Brynjolf’s favorite city and it had everything to do with the cold. That and the Stormcloak stronghold. Not that he didn’t feel _some_ sympathy for his fellow Nords’ plight, but the Civil War was a matter he and the Thieves Guild had nothing to do with. Regardless of the outcome, regardless of whichever Jarl held each hold, Brynjolf would still have a livelihood.

The only reason he was there, standing awkwardly in the palace hall, was because of Fiona and the work she had done to help Ulfric Stormcloak secure the Jagged Crown. A symbol of great significance, it would help the Jarl turn the tide in his takeover of the Imperial cities. For her efforts, Ulfric organized a feast, wanting to showcase the fabled Dragonborn’s talents. It was a party as much for him as it was for her.

If Brynjolf had it his way, they wouldn’t be there at all. He’d much rather be sneaking around some dark alley in his Guild leathers, breaking into the richest noble’s dwelling with Fiona at his side. Despite his true wishes, he also wanted to support her in the responsibilities she held _outside_ the Guild—for one, her attempt to save _all_ of Tamriel. He just didn’t understand why a party was a necessary thing for the Dragonborn. Fiona explained it as an opportunity to network, and hopefully gain support. When she could tell that he wasn’t convinced, she said they could rob anyone who disregarded her warnings of the dragon threat.

As far as he could tell, he’d be robbing a lot of people that evening. Brynjolf listened from his spot leaned against the wall, eyeing nobles from over his goblet of wine. Most spoke of _Ulfric’s_ successes, with _that mysterious Nord woman_ an afterthought. If only they knew. He tugged at the stiff collar of the shirt he wore, feeling stifled by the thick overcoat. When was the last time he wore pants so laundered? He knew he was grimacing at the thought.

“You don’t have to look so put out.”

Brynjolf raised his eyebrows in the direction of the familiar voice, wondering where she had come from. Fiona was standing next to him now, changed from the traveling gear she had arrived in to a more elegant dress, a fur stole wrapped around her shoulders and draped across her arms. He was taken aback, not expecting to see her so… _put together_. A dark green dress with flecks of gold threading along the waist and neckline, a tear shaped opal necklace resting just past her collar. Her icy blonde hair was flowing, free from the usual plaits she used to keep it away from her face. It was effortless—she looked like a natural, like she belonged.

“Damn,” he hushed, smirking as he dipped his gaze across her form again. “You clean up good.”

Fiona raised an eyebrow, one hand resting along her hip. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Who knew there was such a beauty under all that dark and dirty armor,” he joked. Brynjolf couldn’t stop staring at her, transfixed on how amazing she looked. He didn’t have to tell her, judging by the knowing smile she flashed, a glimmer in her eyes as she winked.

“You should see what’s underneath all of _this_ ,” she teased in return.

The two stood there for a moment, slowly turning their attention to the guests in the large hall. There were a few bards, the tune they began to play jaunty enough that more than a few pairs decided to dance along.

“Would you like to dance?” Fiona suddenly asked.

Brynjolf nearly spat out his sip of wine. “What?”

“Oh come on,” she laughed. “I know you know how. It’ll be fun.”

While not his idea of entertainment, he wasn’t about to turn her offer down. Besides, a part of his ego was radiating—out of all of the men in the room, she still chose to be with _him_. He sat down his drink before offering his hand to her with an over dramatic bow. Fiona’s laughter was the sweetest sound as he pulled her to him, the two easily moving into a simple square step. More than before, her eyes were shining, delight and joy causing her to appear _radiant_. Brynjolf disregarded his previous thought of sneaking around playing thief—he could and would dance with Fiona all evening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> say hello over on tumblr @ eeveevie (and prompt me for more bryn x fiona! :) )  
> kudos and comments are always appreciated :)


	7. Stargazing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Stargazing

There were some nights when Brynjolf found himself frustrated at how difficult it was to find Fiona. When she wasn’t in the Cistern, or the Flaggon, the possibilities of where she could be were endless. Riften was a large city, and Fiona _was_ a thief after all, much better at hiding away than the average citizen. By the time Brynjolf had made his second walk around the district, he wondered if she was even still there. He shook his head, knowing she wouldn’t leave the hold without informing him.

He decided to check Honeyside one last time when he noticed a figure by the lakeside. He sighed in relief as he noticed it was Fiona on the eastern pier beside her home. She was sitting on the edge, boots next to her as her feet skimmed across the water’s edge. She was leaned back on one arm, staring up at the night sky. She looked _peaceful_ , and for a long moment, Brynjolf thought about leaving her be in the peace she had found. The planks creaking beneath his feet, however, gave his presence away.

Fiona glanced at him over her shoulder, alarm shifting to a welcoming smile. “Hey.”

“What are you doing out here, lass?” he questioned, moving closer to where she was. At her prompting, he sat down on the pier next to her. She looked at his boots curiously as they splashed into the water, but he only shrugged, not caring if they got wet.

“I just wanted to look at the stars,” Fiona explained, turning her attention skyward.

Brynjolf studied the way her eyes shined for a second before tilting his head up. It was a dark night, the moon barely a crescent shape in the black sky. Thousands of stars were sparkling, unhidden from the usual auroras that flowed through the horizon. They sat there for a long stretch of time, Brynjolf finding comfort in the calm sounds of the water and nearby crickets. When was the last time he had simply just… _sat_ in silence?

Being with Fiona in that moment only made him feel more content. This was a rarity for her just as much as it was for him. His eyes gradually fell back to her face, appreciating the way her pale skin was glowing in the twilight. With a slow blink she turned her attention to him, lip twitching up into a tiny smile.

“Were you coming to get me for something?” she asked.

Brynjolf shook his head, “It can wait.”

Fiona nodded, the two keeping their eyes locked for a few moments. Before he could react she leaned closer, resting her head against his shoulder. He impulsively wrapped his arm around her shoulder, tucking her closer to him. For all he cared, they could stay there until sunrise, just as long as they were together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> say hello over on tumblr @ eeveevie (and prompt me for more bryn x fiona! :) )  
> kudos and comments are always appreciated :)


	8. Fire Within

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Something fluffy (author's choice)  
> (Takes place after "Together" in the main Bryn x Fiona series)

Fiona could feel the wind-chill blowing against her face as she woke up in the middle of the night. Even though she was wrapped up in a thick bedroll and furs, the worsening weather made it difficult to sleep. As a Nord, she was used to the cold, but even she had her limits. High up in the Winterhold mountains where blizzards where frequent, she could feel the chill in her bones.

She blinked the sleep from her eyes, adjusting them to the darkness. There was a dim fire nearby, and the outline of a body sitting on an overturned log in the snow. _Brynjolf_ —she thought. He had offered to take first watch while she slept, the two finding shelter in a small alcove on the mountainside, hidden away behind a grouping of pine trees. Fiona sat up, figuring that if she couldn’t sleep, she would trade places with him.

The wind carried along the gentle snowfall, and Fiona wrapped her fur blanket tight around her shoulders, lifting her hood to protect her ears and face as much as possible. She approached the fire, frowning at how abysmal it was as another gust threatened to extinguish it completely.

“Bloody snowfall,” Brynjolf muttered from his spot.

Through the flurries, she looked at him, biting back amusement at his appearance. The first thought that came to mind was a burlap sack, or perhaps a giant brown potato. He had a large blanket wrapped around his body, in a way that only the toes of his boots and the faintest outline of his nose could be seen.   

Fiona stomped through the snow to him. “Don’t tell me you’re cold.”

Brynjolf grumbled incoherently, and she held back her laughter behind pursed lips. When she sat down next to him, he turned tilting his head back so he could see her from under his blanket-hood. He glared at her.

“Don’t tell me you’re _not_.”

“Not really,” she replied with a shrug. Still, she tightened the furs she had to cover her hands. “What happened to that Nord blood of yours, Bryn?”

He scoffed, a white puff of air floating before his mouth. “It’s still in Riften, apparently.”

He shifted, his hand poking out for one moment to pull back the fabric from his face so he could better see her. His chin wobbled in the slightest way that told her his teeth were chattering.

Fiona nodded towards the fire. “You know, a bigger flame would help with that.”

“Says the woman who can breathe fire,” he said flatly.

“Maybe that’s why I’m not that cold,” she pondered, teasingly. “Perhaps I can ask the Greybeards if being Dragonborn—”

“Or maybe you could just…” he trailed, signaling towards the pile of logs that were barely smoldering now. Brynjolf smiled, raising his eyebrows suggestively. “What do you say, lass?”

Fiona rolled her eyes, only slightly annoyed that her powers had been reduced to some kind of parlor trick. He was right, however—her shouts were useful for more than just destruction and setting her enemies aflame. She leaned forward, taking in a deep breath as she focused. She could feel the warmth radiating through her veins, bubbling in her chest and up her throat before she let out a sharp, short, shout, “ _Yol_!”

Instantly, the fire-pit was engulfed, flickering waves of orange and yellow rising up much higher than before. Fiona settled back on the log, content already with the warmth it was providing—or maybe it was the Thu’um still resonating within.

Regardless, Brynjolf stared at her with wonder. “Shor’s beard, that never gets old.”

Fiona glanced at him, and could only grin. After a moment, she scooted closer to him, untucking herself from the furs and tossing it across his shoulders. Brynjolf took the hint, opening up his blanket so she could snuggle herself right against him. His arm slid around her waist, the other reaching up to make sure they were comfortably wrapped. Within their little cocoon she grabbed his hand, and rested her head against his temple.

“Better?” she asked.

Brynjolf squeezed her hand and she caught the faintest smirk. “Aye lass.”

“But next time,” he added, “we take the job in Markarth.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> say hello over on tumblr @ eeveevie (and prompt me for more bryn x fiona! :) )  
> kudos and comments are always appreciated :)


	9. Take Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "That shirt or other item of clothing that the other ‘borrowed’ and never gave back and it became theirs"  
> (Takes place after "Dream of You" in the main Bryn x Fiona series)

The sun was barely peeking over the horizon as Brynjolf emerged from the Ratways, finding the city of Riften blanketed in a light fog. The marketplace was empty, save for the occasional guard that leered in his direction. He typically wouldn’t be up and about this early, but with the Guild thriving, there was much business to attend to—business that needed the Guildmaster’s attention. So, Brynjolf followed the familiar path past the meadery and Pawned Prawn towards Honeyside.

On any other day, Brynjolf would already be there with Fiona, the two hardly ever spending a night away from one another. But the previous night she had been meeting with the Jarl, so he focused on his own Guild work and lost track of time. He would’ve much rather woken up beside her than the pile of parchment he had passed out upon. Outside the western entrance, he patted at his pockets, realizing quickly he had misplaced his key. Again.

So, he knocked, laughing to himself at the action. It was better than being reprimanded for picking the lock for the hundredth time. Whatever Brynjolf had come to speak with Fiona about vanished from his mind as soon as she answered the door. As soon as she realized it was _him_ , she leaned against the doorway, her surprise relaxing into a smirk.

“I didn’t know you were one to knock, Brynjolf.”

He blinked, completely disregarding her tease, too distracted by what she was wearing. The beige shirt was loose around her neck, one side of the collar hanging in a way that exposed the pale skin of her shoulders. The garment was barely long enough to cover the tops of her thighs, and his thoughts drifted away for a moment, wondering what—or _if—_ she was wearing anything beneath. The more he stared, the more familiar the shirt became—it was _his_. The fact only sparked his arousal.

“Isn’t that mine?” he asked, gesturing to the shirt.

Fiona glanced down, feigning ignorance. “What, this?”

“Lass, I think I’d recognize my own clothing, regardless of who was wearing it.” He crossed his arms, playing the situation carefully. “Where did you steal that from?”

“ _Steal_?” she exaggerated. “You assume I’d steal from you? I simply borrowed it.”

Brynjolf arched one of his brows up. “I don’t remember you asking for it.”

“You don’t always have to ask to borrow things,” she commented. The corners of her mouth lifted as she struggled to keep the game going. The coyness of her smile almost made him crack.

“Again. That would make it _stealing_.”

Fiona rolled her eyes. “I was going to give it back.”

Brynjolf reacted then, leaning forward to place his hands along her waist. Fiona bit down on her bottom lip as she locked onto his eyes, allowing him to walk her backwards into the house. He kicked the door closed behind him, and instantly he could see her expression darken with desire. He slowly pulled at the fabric, fingers sweeping beneath to feel at her soft skin. Fiona only drew herself closer to him, silently encouraging him to continue.

He grinned, “I think you should give it back _now_.”

They could take care of business later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> say hello over on tumblr @ eeveevie (and prompt me for more bryn x fiona! :) )  
> kudos and comments are always appreciated :)


	10. Alone Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Accidentally falling asleep together

Fiona had been sitting on the roof of her Honeyside home for the last hour, finding refuge in the privacy the location gave her. Ever since she had arrived in the city she had been working tirelessly—with the Jarl, with the townsfolk, with the _Guild_. Even though she wasn’t one to complain, the workload had begun to overwhelm her. For a few brief moments, she just wanted to be alone. After all, that was how she was going to tackle her ever-growing to-do list. _Alone_ —it was better that way.

At first, she thought the clicking noises she heard was a bug, or a bird. It wasn’t until she heard a soft curse that she rolled her eyes, recognizing the accent. Fiona carefully crawled to the edge of the roof, glancing over to find just who she expected. Brynjolf was crouched in front of the double doors, lockpick in hand as he struggled to pry the door open. She picked up a pebble and flicked it down, holding back her laughter as it hit him square on the forehead. He flinched back in surprise, rubbing at his head as he looked up.

“What—lass is that _you_?” he asked, moving to stand. “What are you doing up there?”

Fiona snickered. “Catching would-be burglars by surprise.”

Brynjolf stared at her flatly, unamused. “Maybe if you gave me a key, I wouldn’t have to break in.”

“What, so you can walk in unannounced in an attempt to see me nude?”

He smirked, a subtle darkness in his eyes that gave Fiona a shiver. He then shrugged, turning his attention to the ladder propped against the side of the house. She watched him as he carefully began to climb.

“What are you doing?” she asked next.

“What does it look like?” Brynjolf scoffed in return. “You’re up there, so _I’m_ coming up there.”

She shifted back to where she had been laying on a flat part, focusing her attention on the late afternoon sky. Soon enough Brynjolf was on the roof, copying her position by laying down right next to her, hands tucked behind his head. Fiona expected him to say something, but he remained silent. What did he want? Guild business? A game of flirtations? She wasn’t sure how much time had passed when she turned her head to glance at his profile. His eyes were closed, but he was smiling, contently.

“If you fall asleep out here, I’ll leave you to the birds,” she teased.

“Not planning on it,” he replied.

Brynjolf moved his hand to reach down between them, easily finding her hand even with his eyes closed. It was a simple gesture, but it only confused her more. What was he playing at _this time_? She half expected him to suggest they fool around up there, and the thought made her face feel hot. Fiona had always rebuffed his more lewd flirtations, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t _think_ about it now and again. The longer the silence drew on, and the more she studied his face, it was easy to see that he _had_ drifted away. Despite his words, Brynjolf had fallen asleep.

Fiona smiled, and very carefully scooted closer. His hand was warm, and she wondered what it would be like to be wrapped up in his embrace. She held back, however, knowing he would read into it, game or not. So she continued watching him, her own eyes growing heavy with each blink. As the clouds continued to drift along above, Fiona focused on his presence, and how calm she felt. When she finally closed her eyes, allowing sleep to take her, she could only think to herself—maybe she didn’t have to be alone. Not anymore. is

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> say hello over on tumblr @ eeveevie (and prompt me for more bryn x fiona! :) )  
> kudos and comments are always appreciated :)


	11. Daylight Hours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Good morning kiss  
> (Takes place after "Dream of You" in the main Bryn x Fiona series)

Brynjolf snored when he was asleep. This was usually why Fiona awoke before him in the mornings. It wasn’t that it was loud, but the way he held her while they were sleeping—his breath fanning against her ear and across her neck—it was distracting in a way that typically roused her from slumber. That morning was not unlike any other. She fluttered her eyes open, squinting slightly at the sunlight that was pouring in from the nearby window. It was confusing at first, forgetting they were not home in Riften, but rather far West in Falkreath.

Fiona slowly turned around in his embrace, hesitating when he grumbled incoherently before continuing to softly snore. She almost laughed out, finding it endearing. Their _relationship_ , at least the formal aspect of it was allowing her to learn a variety of new traits about the man. Some were mundane—he was allergic to lavender and liked to cross-stitch, while others were more intimate. After all that time spent dancing around each other, it was nice to know there was still so much to learn.

Facing him, she smiled, gently reaching up to brush to lose auburn hairs from his face. Fiona traced a few of her fingers down his cheek, admiring the cut of his chin and the stubble that had grown over the length of their trip. It was likely he wouldn’t trim it down until they returned—not that she minded at all. She ghosted over his mouth, sighing at just how peaceful it was for them in that moment. His breathing steadied, lips twitching slightly at her touch. She gingerly pressing a kiss where her fingers had been.

“Hmm…” he hummed. “Morning.”

Fiona grinned. “Good morning.”

Brynjolf’s arms tightened around her, his face nuzzling against hers as he stretched his legs against hers under the furs. He kissed along her temple, causing her to squirm as his stubble tickled across her skin. He continued for a few moments more before pulling away just enough for their noses to be touching.

“What time do you think it is, lass?”

Fiona craned her neck to try and glance out the window once more. “It’s still daylight. We might make it to Hjallmarch by nightfall.”

“Don’t suppose you have a house there too?” he asked in a teasing manner.

Fiona rolled her eyes. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Brynjolf advanced on her, flipping her beneath him with ease. She yelped in surprise, quickly melting into delight as he kissed her, his body relaxing against hers as she embraced him. Still, she laughed as he broke away to leave a trail of kisses down her neck towards her collar and chest.

“What about our job?” she asked. “We’ll lose daylight if we…we…”

She lost her train of thought the more Brynjolf’s mouth moved across her skin.

“We’re Nightingales,” he mumbled. “We travel better at night.”

It wasn’t the best explanation, but Fiona didn’t need a better one. Not now, at least. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> say hello over on tumblr @ eeveevie (and prompt me for more bryn x fiona! :) )  
> kudos and comments are always appreciated :)


	12. Lost and Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: “I almost lost you” kiss  
> (Takes place after "After the Storm" in the main Bryn x Fiona series)

Vekel seemed genuinely pleased to see Fiona when she finally found the time to see him at the Ragged Flaggon. Since returning to the Cistern, she had been devoting much of her time to determining what Mercer’s next steps were with Brynjolf and Karliah. The Guild had also been asking around the city and the hold, listening for any rumors on where the rat-bastard could have run off to. It was looking like they were going to have to break into the old Guildmaster’s house—no easy task.

As she sat down at the bar, she noticed how quiet it was with everyone out on patrol. While the Flaggon always had a certain eeriness to it, the emptiness of the tavern left Fiona feeling peaceful—a feeling she hadn’t felt in the last few weeks.

“How are you, Vekel?” she asked, watching as he poured her a small tankard of ale.

He shrugged, but offered a sympathetic smile. “Everyone was worried, when you didn’t show up with Mercer. Even Brynjolf went out to find you. Delvin and Vex ran things for a while—”

“What?” Fiona cut him off.

“Delvin and Vex?” Vekel asked.

She shook her head. “Brynjolf did what?”

Fiona didn’t really need Vekel to explain—she had heard him clearly enough—but the revelation was still shocking to her. Was she reading into his words and tone? Perhaps Brynjolf was simply looking for the missing Guildmaster. After all, at the time of her _disappearance_ , they weren’t necessarily on the best of terms. It still left an unsettling feeling in the pit of her stomach, regardless of how they had resolved that _argument_. She had a hard time believing Brynjolf would’ve gone out looking for her.

In the silence, a low smirk had developed on Vekel’s face as he leaned against his side of the bar. Fiona didn’t like it, and hid her frustration behind her tankard, practically chugging back her ale. “ _What_?” she grumbled, wiping at her mouth with the back of her hand.

Vekel only chuckled, shaking his head. “Why don’t you just ask ol’ Bryn yourself?”

She was confused for the split second it took for a hand to meet her back. She flinched, turning to find the topic of discussion sitting down on the barstool in a way so that his legs framed her body and he could face her. Brynjolf’s hand lingered on her back, but eventually he pulled away to grab the tankard Vekel offered him before excusing himself.

“Ask me what?”

Fiona sighed, wondering if it was even worth it. Their _relationship_ —whatever it was—was somewhat back to the way it had been before Mercer’s betrayal. She wasn’t about to risk that with trivial questions about his behavior while she was missing. However, her silence only made him all the more skeptical, Brynjolf leaning against the bar and further into her field of vision.

“Lass?” he questioned.

Fiona finally glanced at him and noticed that instead of his usual grin, there was concern. Considering the circumstances, maybe that wasn’t so surprising—the man was suddenly handed the majority of the Guilds’ responsibility, regardless if he wanted it or not. She eyed him carefully, swallowing down the anxiety she felt about asking her question.

“Did you really go looking for…” she trailed off, not wanting to mention Mercer’s name. “Did you try to track us to Winterhold?”

Brynjolf’s brows furrowed, and his fist clenched around his mug. Fiona frowned, watching as he rubbed a few fingers at his forehead with his other hand, obviously still distraught over the situation.

“With thieves, things don’t always go as planned, but after two weeks I knew something wasn’t right,” he explained. “I followed the route the two of you followed, but found nothing.”

“By the time I returned, Mercer had been back in the Cistern for a day,” Brynjolf spoke. His eyes had darkened with an anger Fiona was familiar with. Brynjolf had told her in detail the lies the man had told in order to keep Brynjolf complacent, the lies he had told in order to ruin Fiona’s good name. “I left searching for you again that night.”

Fiona didn’t say anything, hesitating before loosely placing her hand over his on the table. “Why go if…?”

Brynjolf nodded, understanding her allusion. “I was _angry_. At myself, at you, but mostly at myself. I wasn’t going to lose you like that. I didn’t want to believe Mercer. I had to see it for myself…”

She shook her head slightly, knowing that eventually, Brynjolf fell victim to Mercer’s deception. “But you didn’t.”

Brynjolf’s jaw clenched, and his eyes broke away. “Aye, and I’m not proud of it.”

Fiona raised her hand, catching the side of his face before he could turn away. She offered a small smile, “What’s done is done,” she said, and urged him closer. “I’m here now.”

Brynjolf nodded, and took the hint, closing the gap between them. He kissed her softly, arm loosely tucked around her waist to keep her in place. As they parted he exhaled, relieved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> say hello over on tumblr @ eeveevie (and prompt me for more bryn x fiona! :) )  
> kudos and comments are always appreciated :)


	13. Work To Do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: trying to turn the other on  
> (Takes place after "Dream of You" in the main Bryn x Fiona series)

The Cistern was empty—a rare occurrence, but something Fiona welcomed as she sat by herself in the Ratways. The rest of the Guild had migrated to the Ragged Flaggon, at least those that still remained in the city, not busy with jobs in other holds. Their little band of thieves was finally flourishing, now that Mercer was dead. Many of the members thanked Fiona for the resurgence—with her as Guildmaster, the _curse_ that had long lingered over them was gone.

Fiona was still adapting to her new role, so unused to being looked to as a leader. It wasn’t where she thought she would be when she arrived in Riften nearly a year prior, especially considering her _other_ obligations across Skyhold. Despite her initial apprehension, there really wasn’t anywhere else she’d rather be than with the Thieves Guild.

While the others celebrated another successful job, she stayed behind, diligently keeping track of their earnings at her desk. It was easy for them to say the coins were flowing, but she wanted it documented in the ledger, so that every last gold piece could be tracked. There would not be a repeat of her predecessor’s actions. She scribbled away, occasionally lifting her head to stare at the newly placed shrine to Nocturne. With nothing but the sounds of rushing water, Fiona felt a sense of calm wash over her.

“So this is where you’ve been hiding.”

Brynjolf’s voice echoed beside her, and she quickly turned her attention to him, only slightly startled. It wasn’t every day that somebody could so easily sneak up on her, but he always managed to find a way.

He smirked, noticing her subtle flinch. “Didn’t mean to frighten you, lass.”

Fiona rolled her eyes, focusing her attention back to her work. Not that it mattered—it was likely that he was only in the Cistern to distract her, something he was remarkably good at. On cue he made his way closer, standing behind the chair and out of sight. She only had to wonder what he was up to for a brief moment before he swept her hair back, fingers curling around her shoulders in a gentle squeeze. Fiona reluctantly sighed, suddenly thankful she had changed into something more comfortable as the warmth of his hands radiated through the thin cotton blouse. It felt wonderful.

“So tense,” he remarked, jokingly. “You’re working too hard.”

She softly laughed. “If you weren’t always trying to distract me, there wouldn’t be as much to catch up on.”

“Try?” Brynjolf lowered his head so it was level with hers, his fingers continuing their ministrations. “Don’t sell me so short.” His breath fanned against her ear and down her neck in a heated puff. He lingered, and his hands slowed. “Do you want me to stop?”

Fiona cursed under her breath as her handwriting went awry. She tried to fight it. “I’ll join you and the others—”

The words got caught in her throat as his fingers pulled at her blouse, exposing more of her skin. His lips hovered over her neck, causing goose-flesh to rise. His caresses across her shoulder and clavicle only deepened the sensation. The quill in her hand fell as her eyes fluttered closed.

“Hmm?” Brynjolf hummed, placing the lightest of kisses behind her ear.

 _Divines_ —why did she have to fall in love with such an insufferable tease? Fiona gripped the side of the desk with both hands, knowing better than to rush him. Surprisingly, the man liked to take his time, regardless of the setting. He noticed her actions, smiling against her skin as he kissed down the column of her neck.

“Don’t you think the Guildmaster should celebrate her success?” he asked, softly trailing his nose along the path his lips once took.

Fiona titled her head to give him better purchase, peeking open her eyes to try and see him. He was leaned over the chair more than before, head nuzzling hers as he kissed along her jawline. She sighed, the sound bordering on a moan.

“Celebrate with the others?” she questioned, noting the way he paused to glance at her. “Or with _you_?”

Brynjolf shook his head, and slowly coaxed her to stand. Fiona didn’t need much persuading, relishing in the way his hands slid across her waist as he propped her on the edge of the desk, pushing her work aside—she could balance the Guild’s profits later. He kissed her fervently, grinning as he pulled only a fraction away.

“Lass, you should know by now I want you all to myself.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> say hello over on tumblr @ eeveevie (and prompt me for more bryn x fiona! :) )  
> kudos and comments are always appreciated :)


	14. Return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Hello kisses  
> (Takes place after "Mara Finds a Way" in the main Bryn x Fiona series)

The snowfall was blinding, flurries rushing about as the harsh wind carried it down from the skies in large bursts. It wasn’t unusual for the north to have snow during the winter months, but a blizzard like this was anomalous, even for Eastmarch.

Brynjolf paced the Windhelm pier, occasionally pausing in an attempt to glance out across the icy water for any arriving ships, but the snow and fog made it nearly impossible. He knew the weather would delay her arrival, but the further the sun dipped past the horizon, the more anxious he became. Fiona should’ve returned by now and _no_ —he wouldn’t let his mind wander. Instead, he wrapped his cloak tightly around his torso and turned on his heel to pace along the planks once more.

Behind him, Delvin snickered. “You’re acting like we’re receiving the Queen of Morrowind,” he laughed. “More nervous than an expectant father I reckon.”

That had Brynjolf’s ears burning, enough to falter his steps. Delvin’s amusement only seemed to grow. Brynjolf glanced to see his life-long friend leaned against an East-Empire Company shipping crate like the weather had no effect on him at all.

“I haven’t seen her in…” he hated thinking about how much time had passed since she departed. “Gods, it’s been nearly six months.”

When the Cultists first appeared in Riften, Fiona had dismissed them as a fluke. But when they continued to show up wherever her and Brynjolf traveled and begun to terrorize the innocents of other cities—she had no choice but to act. Almost overnight it was decided, and while he protested, she insisted it would be safer and smarter for him to stay in Riften and keep watch over the Guild while she traveled to Solstheim.

Of course, neither of them anticipated just how long she’d end up staying on the northern island, the mysterious Miraak not something to be uncovered and resolved within a short amount of time. There were other complications that arose while in Raven Rock, and of course Fiona was determined to see them through. Brynjolf had found _some_ relief in knowing that Delvin’s brother Glover was in Solstheim and would be there to watch over her—not that the Dragonborn needed watching over—but it still gave Brynjolf peace of mind.

They had exchanged letters frequently, but parchment was no comparison to having her home. After having Fiona as a constant companion, it was difficult to have her missing. The pain was only compounded by the fact that she wasn’t _just_ his companion, friend, or Guildmaster, but the woman he loved—the woman he had shared a life with for the last three years. This had been the first time he had been without her since they met (if Brynjolf ignored Mercer’s attempt at leaving her to die at Snowveil Sanctum), and the distance was an agony he wouldn’t wish on anyone.

At least now he wouldn’t have to wait for very much longer. After all that time away, she was returning to Skyrim—she was coming home to Riften, to the Guild, to _him_.

“You know I haven’t seen my brother in years, right?” Delvin asked, but he didn’t appear to be truly offended. “Then again, I’m not madly in love with him, so I suppose its different.”

Brynjolf was well past the days of feeling embarrassed when his friends would point out the obvious emotions he felt for their Guildmaster. Now, he only felt pride—of course he loved Fiona and he wasn’t afraid to put those feelings on display anymore.

Finally, several dockhands started to stir as a ship’s bell echoed in the distance. They readied the nearest port while Brynjolf and Delvin stood aside to allow the men to work. It wasn’t until the ship was docking that they could see it clearly through the fog and snowfall. Brynjolf stood there frozen, just staring as the occupants of the ferry disembarked. He hadn’t realized he was holding his breath until he saw the familiar blonde hair billowing in the wind. He didn’t fully exhale until Fiona turned on the pier, her smile bright and sapphire eyes twinkling brighter than any gem in the Cistern safe.

Without a second thought he ran to her, Fiona’s surprised gasp quickly dissolving into laughter as he scooped her into his arms, clutching her tightly to his chest. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, legs bending at the knees as he lifted her off the ground to spin them around, drunk on the bliss of their reunion. Brynjolf inhaled deeply as he squeezed her close, his whole body warming at the instantly familiar scent of her. He buried his face against the curve of her neck, brushing his nose along the sliver of skin he found—he’d find more later.

Finally, he placed her down on the pier and reluctantly pulled away just enough to frame her face between his gloved hands, and stare into her eyes. Her hands slid down from his shoulders to rest against his chest as they simply gazed at one another for a fleeting moment.

She smiled. “Hello.”

“Hello, lass,” he replied, mimicking her grin.

She tilted her head closer and Brynjolf took the hint, closing the gap to make their lover’s reunion as official as they could for now with a kiss. It started sweet and slow, little smiles fading away as the kiss grew deeper and more passionate. His hands framing her face slid to brush through her hair, fingers stroking her cheek and neck—he only wished he wasn’t wearing these damned gloves so he could feel at her soft skin. They kissed, and the world around them fell away. _Divines_ , how he had missed her lips on his.

“Are you two done yet?” Delvin shouted, forcing Fiona to pull away from their kiss with a brisk laugh. She leaned against Brynjolf in a loose hug as the two glanced over to where the two Mallory brothers were not-so-quietly teasing the reuniting couple.

After a few moments, Brynjolf pressed another kiss to her temple, simply because he could.

“I missed you Fiona,” he sighed. A shiver ran up his spine as a gust of wind rushed by. “More than you know.”

“From now on, you go where I go,” Fiona said, lacing her hand into his. “Wherever that may be.”

Brynjolf eagerly nodded and walked with her as she led them away from the docks and into the city. They had some time to make up for, and then, a future to look forward to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> say hello over on tumblr @ eeveevie (and prompt me for more bryn x fiona! :) )  
> kudos and comments are always appreciated :)


	15. Night Cap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Love Bite and Swimming  
> (Takes place after "Dream of You" in the main Bryn x Fiona series)

Sunset in Riften was always a sight to behold. Fiona watched the hues mix along the horizon, admiring the beauty of it all. She had been outside that afternoon, gardening in the small plot attached to Honeyside. It was one her more relaxing hobbies, a comforting pastime when she wasn’t running jobs for the Guild or off galivanting across Skyrim, saving hold from random dragon attacks. Plucking at the various flowers, mushrooms and herbs was also helpful in passing the time until Brynjolf returned.

He had left with Delvin for a small job in Shor’s Stone that morning, nothing that wouldn’t prevent him from returning by nightfall. Fiona observed the dusk skies for a few moments longer before entering her home, deciding to tidy up and start preparations for an evening meal for the two to share—no doubt Brynjolf would be hungry from his travels.

Before long, the lock on the front door wiggled, Fiona glancing up from the fireplace stove-pot just in time to watch as Brynjolf crossed over the threshold. She couldn’t help but laugh at his appearance. His Guild armor was covered in mud and dirt, blades of grass and leaves stuck to various parts of his body as if he had _rolled_ back to Riften. And was that _blood_?

“By the Nine Bryn,” she continued through fits of laughter. “Were you attacked by a tree?”

Brynjolf shrugged with a grin as he stepped further into the home, tracking a mess behind him. “Worse. A bear. I suppose that makes me and Delvin rather manly, eh?”

“Not really,” Fiona giggled as his expression faltered. “I mean, how many bears have _I_ killed?”

“Point taken.”

When Brynjolf tried to lean in to greet her with a kiss, Fiona yelped, playfully shoving him away as a goop of mud dripped off of his coat onto her linen dress. He let out a hearty chuckle, trying again to wrap her into an embrace but she pushed him away.

“You aren’t getting a kiss until you are clean!” she insisted. “And don’t smell like the inside of a bear.”

She waved towards the back door that led to the western river that flowed alongside Riften and Honeyside. Brynjolf rolled his eyes but maneuvered around her to the door. “Aye, if you say so,” he paused, rummaging through the trunk at the foot of their bed for a change of clothes. “Might you be joining me lass?”

Fiona regarded his question—it was _oh_ _so_ tempting—but it was also tempting to want to tease him. So, she bit the inside of her cheek to hide her guile and shook her head. “No, I think you can _handle_ yourself.”

Brynjolf’s usual smirk wavered and he stared at her for a second, as if he was struggling to determine if he truly done something to offend her. But when she smiled, he mimicked her and nodded before awkwardly exiting the house. Fiona softly chuckled to herself, only allowing a little time to pass before she quickly changed—rather _stripped_ —wrapping herself in a large cloak so she wasn’t completely bare as she made her way outside.

Fiona exited through the east door, sticking to the shadows of the city walls under the dark evening sky as she slipped through the city gates and around the dirt path down to the riverbank behind her home. She crouched down behind the pier near some bushes, smiling to herself when she noticed Brynjolf immediately. He was standing just beyond the docked boat in the shallow water, most of his body submerged beneath the surface. Fiona lingered in her hidden spot to watch him, simply admiring the movements of his body under the moonlight. She felt warm— _prideful_ , oh how lucky she was to call this man hers. As much as Fiona wanted to stay and watch Brynjolf bathe himself in the river, she needed to be closer.

Finally, she removed her cloak, carefully placing it on the riverbank before slinking her body into the water. She watched Brynjolf the entire time, his head never turning back to inspect some noise he might have heard—because he didn’t hear anything. Fiona submerged herself completely as she drew closer, springing up when she knew she was right behind him. Immediately he had flinched forward, but as her arms moved to wrap around his torso, he relaxed, his laughter mixing with hers as he realized it was only her.

“Did you only say no so you could scare the soul out of my body?” he asked, tone evening out as he leaned against her.

Fiona hugged him, running her hands across his chest as she nuzzled her cheek against his shoulder. “Perhaps.”

He sighed, relaxing further as her teasing touches only drifted more south. Simultaneously, Fiona kissed at his neck, trailing up and down the column of his throat before focusing on a spot right below his ear. Brynjolf was always one to leave marks on Fiona’s skin— _especially_ on her neck—she smiled against his skin as she thought about getting the chance to return the favor. She nibbled and sucked at his skin, kissing more tenderly as softer moans escaped from his mouth. While it encouraged her, Fiona wanted to keep the game going. Without warning, she shoved herself away from him and waded further into the river’s water.

Brynjolf turned around, startled by her disappearance and sudden lack of contact. “And just where are you going?”

“Oh, did you want me to continue?” she giggled at his flustered expression and the way he nodded as if she had asked if the sky was blue. “Well…” she continued to swim away as he advanced towards her with a darkened, more devious grin.

“You’ll have to catch me first!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> say hello over on tumblr @ eeveevie (and prompt me for more bryn x fiona! :) )  
> kudos and comments are always appreciated :)


	16. Gladiolus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Gladiolus- you pierce my heart (short prompts)

They had been training in the back room for hours when Brynjolf suggested they dual—had made it interesting by offering some gold for whoever _won_.

“You’ve proven yourself handy with a bow,” he explained with a sly grin, twirling a blade between nimble fingers. “But what about close combat, lass?”

Fiona eagerly accepted, knowing full well it was one of his games to get closer to her, to have an excuse for physical contact or an accidental brush somewhere inappropriate. She played coy at first, letting him have the advantage—or at least _think_ he had the advantage when their blades first met. Ebony on ebony, both sets of high quality and well taken care of by their owners.

She almost expected it to be a fair fight until Brynjolf circled under her arm before using his foot to sideswipe her legs apart and cause her to lose her balance. The next thing she knew she was on her back, the weight of him pining her to the ground—alarming and delightful at the same time. Fiona sucked in a breath when she felt the slightest press of his blades pressing against her armored coat.

“See how easily I could pierce this blade through your heart, lass?”

So, he wanted to play dirty?

She only grinned up at him, wiggling her leg just enough to find the necessary purchase to flip his body, switching their positions in an instant. Fiona flashed a wicked grin as she held one blade to his neck, another across his chest.

“Never let your guard down, or you’ll end up with a wounded heart yourself.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> say hello over on tumblr @ eeveevie (and prompt me for more bryn x fiona! :) )  
> kudos and comments are always appreciated :)


	17. Simple Pleasures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Sweet pea- delicate pleasures (micro prompts)

Brynjolf had broken into Honeyside because well, _of course_ he had broken in. Before dawn, before any nosy guards could catch him in the act—not that he’d ever disgrace the Guild by being _caught_ —he’d made it routine to slip over to Fiona’s estate to ensure she was safe and sound. With Mercer in the wind, he could never be too careful.

For all the homes he had burglarized, hers he had memorized perfectly—all the pressure points in the floorboards, the lighting of the oil lanterns and the way they caught his shadow as he crept along the western wall towards her bed. As far as he could tell, she was still asleep, flat on her stomach with her arms stretched up to encircle a pillow close to her body and face. The sight made Brynjolf warm with emotion.

He eased into the empty space beside her like he done so many times before, carefully as to not disrupt her slumber. Propping his head up on one hand he glanced down at the back of her head, idly brushing his hand down the middle of her back in small comforting circles.

“You know, you can stop breaking in,” she sleepily mumbled. “Just steal a key.”

Brynjolf softly chuckled, reaching up to softly comb his fingers through her hair. “I _like_ breaking in,” he replied. “Old habits die hard.”

“You’re wasting picklocks,” her voice was obscured as she shifted to turn her face towards him, eyes still closed. “And ruining my doorframes.”

“It’s the simple pleasures, lass,” he laughed, trailing his touch across her temple and down her cheek. “Let a man have them.”

“Oh? Is that what men want now?” she softly giggled, one eye peeking open.

“For a thief, of course.”

Her eyes fully opened in a flutter, and she grinned. “Of course, _tafiir_.”

Brynjolf raised a brow. “You keep calling me that, lass.”

“In the dragon language, it means thief,” she explained.

“Does it now?”

Fiona’s smile increased as she lifted herself from the bed to mirror his position, resting her chin in her palm. “You should live up to the name and steal some simple pleasures instead.”

Brynjolf chuckled at that, already leaning in to capture her lips in a kiss—he didn’t need her to tell him twice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> say hello over on tumblr @ eeveevie (and prompt me for more bryn x fiona! :) )  
> kudos and comments are always appreciated :)


	18. Temptation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flower prompts: Quince- temptation (micro prompts)

They were camped just south of Windhelm, on their way to Irkngthand to hopefully confront Mercer once and for all. Brynjolf was on guard while Karliah and Fiona slept in their perspective tents, except Fiona wasn’t sleeping. How could she? The closer they got to their destination, the more anxious she became. At least it wasn’t her turn to be on watch anytime soon.

To bring herself some comfort, her mind drifted—Brynjolf—if he were sharing the space beside her, it would be easier to fall asleep. Since her return they had only grown closer, and now that they were Nightingales, he had all but confessed his love for her, the two formally committing to be together once Mercer was dead. The thought did little to calm Fiona’s trepidation—what if they failed? She wasn’t about to lose out on her happy ending _now_.

She focused on the mumbling voices outside her tent, realizing that Karliah was taking over for Brynjolf so he could rest until dawn. Fiona’s heart began to race as she instantly thought that perhaps he would be joining her. It wouldn’t be the first time, but now, they didn’t need an excuse. She laid there on her side holding her breath for a long moment before adjusting, listening for the tale-tell rustling sounds but there was only silence. Silence and disappointment—it wouldn’t do.

Karliah paid Fiona no attention as she crept out from her tent with her blanket draped around her shoulders, quickly scampering across the camp to Brynjolf’s tent, quickly lifting the flap to let herself inside. He was already wrapped up inside his bedroll, facing away from her and seemingly well on his way to a peaceful slumber. She carefully lifted the bedroll before stretching beside him, draping her own blanket across their bodies as she snaked her arm around his torso. His body’s reactions told her he was awake.

“Isn’t usually _you_ sneaking into _my_ tent?” she teased.

“Not that I didn’t want to lass,” he said with a soft chuckle, lifting her hand to gingerly kiss along her fingertips. “But for Karliah’s sake, I’m trying to keep my distance.”

Fiona furrowed her eyebrows, despite the face he couldn’t see her face. “What do you mean?”

“You should know by know what you do to me,” Brynjolf spoke, moving her hand to place over his chest. Fiona instantly felt the strong thump of his heart pulsating against his ribcage. “I can barely keep my thoughts straight around you, Fiona. Put me in your tent in this state and I’d end up devouring you.”

“ _Oh_ ,” she whispered in reply. She gulped hard, not disliking the way her body shivered with want at his words. So, he too was battling with the cruel mistress that was temptation. She tried to withdraw her arm away. “Do you want me to leave?”

Brynjolf kept her firmly in place, tugging her closer. “ _No_ ,” he said firmly, threading their fingers together. “I can keep my hands to myself…this time.”

Fiona smiled as she snuggled closer against his back, resting her head along the straw pillow and breathing in his scent. Her anxiety from before settled, turning into excitement. The sooner they resolved this, the sooner they could be together. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> say hello over on tumblr @ eeveevie (and prompt me for more bryn x fiona! :) )  
> kudos and comments are always appreciated :)


	19. Intuition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Micro flower prompts: Holly- foresight

Solitude was one of Fiona’s least favorite holds to work a job—too crowded, too cold, and the Legion presence made her nerves stand on end. But it was a popular city for the Guild to exploit, with so many nobles taking up residence. Many of these targets were so rich, as Delvin put it, they wouldn’t miss a few hundred septims or a handful of misplaced jewels.

The house her and Brynjolf were currently burglarizing was unassuming for a noble, with hardly any visible loot on display for the taking. But as they crept along the walls avoiding the creaky parts of the floorboards, they finally approached a large locked chest sitting in plain sight away from other furniture.

“Ah ha,” Brynjolf said quietly, expression one of delight as he moved towards their prize.

Fiona was suddenly overcome with the strong sense that something was wrong. So powerful that she instinctively reached out for Brynjolf’s collar, practically yanking him back a step away from the locked chest.

“ _Hey_!” he hushed, glaring at her over his shoulder. “What are you—”

She pressed the flat of her palm over his mouth, hushing him. “Shh,” she eyed the windows and the flicker of shadows in the distance. “We need to leave.”

Brynjolf reached up to pull her hand away from his face, holding her fingers in a lose grip. “And why’s that?”

“Trust me,” she answered plainly.

He narrowed his eyes, but Fiona could tell he was only doing so to tease. “ _Okay_ , but you owe me.”

Outside the home, the two were slinking back into the shadows from once they came when the building was suddenly surrounded by guards, all yelling for the intruders to come out. Brynjolf chuckled under his breath as he yanked on her hand, pulling the two of them even further into the darkness of the night. They found shelter in a shady alleyway, with only the moonlight to illuminate their faces as they caught their breaths.

“You were right,” he laughed, bright smile increasing as the thrill of the getaway flowed through his bones. Fiona enjoyed seeing him on a job—success or failure—he was always _excited_.

She nodded. “I usually am. Don’t you know by now not to question my female intuition?”

Brynjolf pushed off the wall on his side of the alley, quickly crossing to where she was leaning. “Aye, but now I’m wondering how you’ll make up for us missing a valuable mark.”

All part of the game— _their_ game—but Gods knew she loved to play along. Fiona slowly slid her arms around his neck, smirking as his eyes glimmered with a new kind of excitement. “Oh, I’m sure I can think of something.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> say hello over on tumblr @ eeveevie (and prompt me for more bryn x fiona! :) )  
> kudos and comments are always appreciated :)


	20. Be There

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Having a bad day and the other noticing

As soon as Fiona returned home that evening, she knew something wasn’t right. It wasn’t unusual that Brynjolf was there—no, it had become a regular occurrence for him to spend the nights with her now that they were together—Honeyside was as much _his_ home as it was hers. But it was early, and yet he was there, already curled up in her bed and seemingly asleep. Her instinct told her this wasn’t some strange ploy for sex—they were a little beyond needing games for that. Plus, she imagined he would be _on top_ of the sheets, facing her, wearing less clothes if that were the scenario.

Still, something nagged in her mind, telling her that something was off. Quietly, she set her belongings down on the desk and began to undress, changing from her Guild armor to her nightdress all the while peering over her shoulder to look at his sleeping form. Once changed she stepped to the side of the bed, carefully sliding the blankets back so she could crawl beside him.

Almost immediately she could feel the tension radiating off of him—now she was worried. Fiona slipped one arm around his torso, her other hand reaching up to rest on his shoulder, frowning when his body didn’t react. She moved closer, sliding her hand across his chest and through the front laces of his shirt to touch at his skin. He stirred, head burrowing further into the pillow for a brief moment.

“Hmm…Fiona?”

She nodded, brushing her nose against the back of his neck before resting her head against his. “Yes, I’m here…” she trailed, frowning when he had yet to completely relax to her touch. What was troubling him? A nightmare? “Is everything alright?” she asked quietly.

He didn’t respond, but she could feel the intensity of his heart racing against her palm—apparently not.

She pressed a soft kiss to his neck, nuzzling her head against the curve of his shoulder. “I’m here.”

A simple statement of reassurance. Brynjolf lifted the hand at her chest from beneath the covers to his lips, grazing her fingertips with the lightest of kisses. He laced their hands together before settling them back down across his torso. “Aye love, I know.”

They laid there in silence, Brynjolf eventually relaxing into Fiona’s embrace—she could tell with each little caress or kiss a little more darkness faded away. She was content to simply _be_ there with him, for him in any way she could, without knowing the cause for his troubles. She didn’t need to know right away—he’d tell her eventually.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> say hello over on tumblr @ eeveevie (and prompt me for more bryn x fiona! :) )  
> kudos and comments are always appreciated :)


	21. Hands On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: There’s people chasing us and I pulled you into the alley with me and wow you’re close

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mild (as in clothes on) sexual content?

Fishing jobs were never easy, but Fiona supposed that was part of the thrill of being a thief. They were still one of her favorite tasks to run for the Guild, even as Guildmaster—a chance to showcase a different side of her skillset. Picking pockets relied on misdirection, slight-of-hand, and sometimes a few honeyed words to sweeten up the mark.

This time, however, Fiona was wishing she had never taken the extra work from Delvin. For starters, he had sent her all the way across Skyrim to Markarth. Then, he had instructed her to lift a priceless expensive amulet from the Jarl’s steward—who hardly ever left the throne room, or his company of soldiers. At first, she thought having Brynjolf join as her _partner in crime_ would be beneficial, but it quickly backfired. His _genius_ idea for them to visit Jarl Igmund undercover as bards went up in smoke when he couldn’t produce a single note on the flute he carried. Their little charade was quickly dismantled, and the two barely had enough time to distract the guards before running away.

It was difficult to run in the dress she wore, but slowly Fiona’s irritation melted away as the adrenaline coursed through her veins. She had never been caught—didn’t plan on it either—but that didn’t mean she didn’t love a game of cat and mouse. Her heart was racing as she dashed through the dark maze of Markarth city streets, not fully realizing she had lost Brynjolf along the way until she had passed the Silver-Blood Inn. The further away from the Understone Keep she got, the less guards she encountered, but that didn’t slow her or cause her to drop her defenses.

As she rushed around another corner, she nearly yelped in surprise as two arms pulled her into a darkened alleyway, one large hand clamped across her mouth, the other sliding across her waist to keep her still. Fiona instinctually reached up to fight off her captor but found the arms around her tightening in an effort to calm her. She inhaled—a familiar musk of pine and brandy—and she _knew_.

Brynjolf hushed her protest, his hot breath dancing along her neck calming her and exciting her in new ways all the same. She stilled and watched as the last straggler of guards ran by, shouting commands that the _thieves_ had gotten away. They were in the clear—for now. But all Fiona could think about was how _close_ Brynjolf’s body was to hers, how different it felt pressed up against her when they weren’t in their Guild armor. His hand slid from her lips to her shoulder and she closed her eyes, trying to compose herself. Since when had she become so… _touch-starved_? Fiona supposed it had something to do with the fact they weren’t dancing around one another anymore. With no games to play, suddenly _she_ was feeling like the lecherous one.

“Well that didn’t go quite as planned,” he said with a light chuckle, words tickling against the shell of her ear.

No, it hadn’t, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t still have some fun while they were there. Fiona quickly turned around in his embrace, not giving Brynjolf much time to react before she had cupped his face in her hands, bringing him into a heated kiss. His initial shock subsided quickly, however, and soon enough he was kissing back in earnest, hands roaming across her body in an effort to find some expanse of skin to touch.

She moaned, _loudly_ as Brynjolf spun their bodies around, pinning her against the stone alley wall. He lifted one of her legs and hooked it around his waist, hand disappearing beneath the layers of skirts as it slid up her thigh. His other hand nimbly pulled at the front laces of her dress, all the while his lips tracing a delightful line from her jaw, down her neck to her chest. Fiona tugged him closer, groaning when she could feel the slightest outline of his arousal pressing against her.

“ _Hey_! You two!”

They broke away from each other in an instant, quickly remembering that they had just been running from the city guard before getting lost in one another. Brynjolf instinctively tucked Fiona close to his chest, most likely to hide her state of undress from prying eyes, even in the darkness. They craned their necks upwards to see a not a guard, but a random citizen shouting down at them from a balcony.

“Get a room, before I report you to the guard!”

Fiona couldn’t contain herself as she giggled into the crook of Brynjolf’s shoulder, her amusement outweighing her embarrassment. He copied her laughter, pulling away just the slightest to flash that signature smirk she adored.

“He’s right,” Brynjolf sighed. “We should get a room, lest we get arrested for indecent exposure.”

She beamed up at him, capturing his lips in one last kiss. “Lead the way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> say hello over on tumblr @ eeveevie (and prompt me for more bryn x fiona! :) )  
> kudos and comments are always appreciated :)


	22. Trust In Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: “Do you trust me?”

Brynjolf was miserable. He had been traveling with Fiona for what felt like days across Skyrim from Riften north, heading into the Pale for a series of jobs for the Guild. Their journey hadn’t been easy—first there was the bear attack in the woods, then there was the blinding snowstorm in Eastmarch, and then there was the numerous attempts at robbery by roadway bandits, and even one assassin who had seemingly appeared out of thin air. By the time they had finally made it to Dawnstar and the Windpeak Inn, the two were completely fatigued and ready for anything but a heist.

It was understandable that Fiona immediately broke away from him to her own rented room, wanting to rest before they attempted any type of thievery. Brynjolf, however, needed a drink…or two. He wasn’t one to wallow but needed to think—Fiona had been in a strange mood upon their arrival in the hold. She had given him short answers and would not engage in any of their usual flirtatious banter, causing him to second guess his _games_. She seemed distracted and more focused than ever on every face they passed. That is, until they were at the Inn, where she was quick to hide herself away completely.

While Brynjolf was busy mulling over his drink and stew, he noted the grouping of Thalmor at the bar, questioning the barkeep, Thoring. They had been around the hold as they arrived, but Brynjolf hadn’t expected to see them again inside the city, let alone inside the tavern. He ignored them—he didn’t have time to worry about Skyrim’s politics, not when he had matters of the heart to contemplate.

“Excuse me, _you there_.”

It took a moment for Brynjolf to realize one of the high elves was addressing _him_. He paused from taking a drink of his ale to glance at the man and his off-putting glare.

“Have you seen a Nord woman, blonde with dark blue eyes,” he paused. Brynjolf didn’t react—he _had_ , but the Thalmor would need to be a little more specific. A lot of Nords looked like that. “We believe she goes by Fiona.”

Now why would the Thalmor be looking for the lass? Brynjolf disregarded the elf’s question as if it was of no concern, continuing on with his drinking. “Can’t say that I have.”

“Hmm, well…” the Thalmor eyed him carefully. “If you _do_ , there’s a handsome reward.”

Brynjolf thought that was the end of their conversation, but the Thalmor did not retreat. “We know how your Guild could use the gold.”

A threat if Brynjolf had ever heard one, sure, but he didn’t let it affect him. The Thalmor had been scurrying through the Ratways a few months prior, but the Guild and Maven had seen to removing them from the city. When he didn’t respond, the Thalmor finally seemed to get the message and walked away. Brynjolf stayed put, waiting until the entire group left the tavern, all the while formulating some kind of plan in his head. Were they asking him as a ruse? Did they already know Fiona was there and were using him as bait? Or did he have a chance at hiding her away?

Brynjolf decided to act now, ask questions later. He shot a glance at the Nord barkeep who shared a similar irritated expression at being shaken down by the Thalmor. As if he could tell what Brynjolf was planning, he gave him a slight nod of the head before glancing towards a closed inn door. Brynjolf smirked to himself, moving fast.

Surprisingly, Fiona had left the door unlocked, despite the fact that when he swung open the door, he found her in the midst of changing from her traveling gear into something more comfortable. Understandably she shrieked, turning around to immediately berate her intruder, her irritation seeming to grow when she realized it was _him_.

“Oh for—” she reached out to lightly smack him on the shoulder, somewhat shoving him back towards the doorway, even as he closed the door. “ _Brynjolf_!”

“Do you trust me?” he asked in a rushed tone.

“Not particularly,” she replied, lips in a thin line. While her reply caused an immediate ache to ripple through him, Brynjolf had no choice but to ignore that feeling for now. Fiona rolled her eyes, nonplussed. “Especially when it seems like you are putting on an act.”

“Then I’ll have to grovel for forgiveness later,” he mumbled, more to himself as he swiftly advanced towards her.

Fiona yelped, half in alarm, half in confusion as he yanked her blouse up until it was covering her head and hair, actually thanking the Divines she was wearing something beneath. He then pushed her to the bed, ignoring her fits as he leaned over her body across the mattress. As soon as the bedroom door slammed open, she froze and Brynjolf sighed a breath of relief—at first.

“Hey! Can’t a man get some privacy around here?” he yelled over his shoulder, finding the barkeep struggling to hold back his amusement. Behind him, Thalmor attempted to peer through the doorway for a better look.

Thoring quickly ushered them away. “Nothing to see here. Just two lovebirds, it seems.”

Despite the Thalmor’s protests, the door slammed closed as quickly as it had opened. Brynjolf didn’t dare move until he heard the lock click into place. Fiona wiggled her arms and hands, still trapped in the tangle of her shirt, her muffled voice hard to decipher.

“—your hand.”

Brynjolf raised his brows before glancing down, noticing his hand was dangerously close to cupping her breast. He let out a soft chuckle before leaning away, helping her adjust her shirt back into place and sit up on the edge of the bed. As she fixed her hair, he couldn’t help but notice the slight discomfort in her demeanor and wondered if he had taken a step too far this time with his antics. Her words came back in full force—after all this time—did Fiona not trust him?

She must have noticed his expression and furrowed her brows. “Bryn? What is it?”

He hesitated, wondering if he was reading into her earlier statement too much. He didn’t want to lose the airy feeling of the moment between them, but the discomfort he felt couldn’t linger. “You don’t really distrust me, do you lass?”

“ _What_?” she gasped, blinking hard as if truly in shock by his question. Fiona shifted herself closer to where he sat, tilting her head to catch his gaze, but Brynjolf suddenly found it difficult to meet her eyes. He felt vulnerable sharing his emotions like this, _especially_ with her. “Brynjolf…”

Her hand reached up to gingerly rest against his cheek, thumb jutting out to brush across his faded scar. He snapped his eyes back to hers, relaxing under her gentle touch. She was smiling in that tiny encouraging way that instantly warmed his heart.

“Of course I trust you…” Fiona trailed and for a moment he assumed she had more to say, but she stayed silent. Brynjolf then thought she was going to kiss him and dared to lean closer to her but instead she slid her hand up to tug on his ear. He let out a short yelp and she laughed. “Just _warn_ me next time you want to take my clothes off as part of a ruse. Okay?”

“Aye lass, alright,” he sighed, reaching up to rub at his sore ear. Brynjolf couldn’t resist flashing her a wicked grin. “And what if I want to take your clothes off for _other_ reasons?”

Fiona swiftly pushed him from the side of the bed so that he was flat on the ground—painful, but oh so worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> say hello over on tumblr @ eeveevie (and prompt me for more bryn x fiona! :) )  
> kudos and comments are always appreciated :)


	23. Daydream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Apodyopis- The act of mentally undressing someone

“Maven is getting impatient.”

“Hmm.” Bryn _tried_ to listen to what Mercer was saying but found himself woefully distracted.

Nearby, Fiona was training with Niruin, the two making each shot of their bow look effortless. Of course, Brynjolf was much more focused on the movement of Fiona’s body, more easily seen after she had discarded her coat to make the exercise easier. The curl of her shoulders as she drew back the arrow, the way the muscles in her neck tensed as she lined up her shot and the expanding of her chest with the little inhale of breath she took before firing—it was all enthralling to watch.

“ _Brynjolf_!” With Mercer’s scolding tone he snapped his gaze back to the task at hand, ignoring the way his Guildmaster was glaring at him. “Do I need to repeat myself?”

Brynjolf shook his head, glancing across the letters strewn in front of Mercer before taking a quick guess at what he had missed while lost in his own thoughts. “You’ll be able to keep her calm for a while yet. It worked before, why wouldn’t it work now?”

Mercer continued to grimace at him but eventually nodded in agreement. “Keep these footpads busy while I’m at the lodge,” he instructed, rounding the desk towards the graveyard exit. He eyed Fiona before looking to Brynjolf with an almost disgusted scowl. “ _All_ of them.”

Despite Mercer’s orders, Brynjolf hardly moved from his spot, pretending to be busy with whatever paperwork littered the Guildmaster’s desk as he continued to watch Fiona at the archery stand. She and Niruin were laughing, making a game of each arrow they fired, trying to see how many bullseyes the other could claim. Meanwhile, Brynjolf couldn’t help but let his eyes wander.

He would be a daft and foolish man not to find Fiona attractive—she was _alluring_ and had so far been receptive to Brynjolf’s flirtations. But something told him she wasn’t the type for just a roll in the hay or games, despite her playful banter with him. Still, he found himself intrigued and very much imagining what it would be like if he walked over and lifted that white blouse up and over her head, discarding it to the Cistern pool.

What would her skin look like, _feel_ like? The shape of her breasts in his palms—he wondered what her undergarments looked like. Fiona struck him as a woman of finer taste, there was no way they were a simple cotton like the tavern wenches wore. He rubbed at his jaw in thought, eyes dipping further towards her bottom—oh, what an _ass_ —he’d had the pleasure of being close to its wonderous shape on a few jobs before and the leather of her pants only enhanced the shape.

He glanced at the shape of her thighs, wondering— _knowing_ —how strong and sculpted they were from her running jobs across Skyrim. What Brynjolf wouldn’t give to find himself between her legs, leaving a wet trail of kisses towards her center, not stopping until she was crying out in ecstasy. If she thought he was silver-tongued now…

“Oh will you just bend her over the nearest bed and _fuck_ her already?” Vex’s voice was loud as she approached the Guildmaster’s desk, cutting through Brynjolf’s fantasy. “Watching you daydream is making me sick.”

“I wasn’t—”

She made a disgusted sound. “Sure, like I haven’t seen that same look on Delvin’s face in the Flaggon being sent _my_ way.”

Brynjolf awkwardly shifted, hoping that nobody could make out his arousal though his leathers. That, and Vex, who made no move to quiet herself.

“You really should take care of _that_ ,” Vex voiced, smirking as she waved towards his groin.

Brynjolf glared at her, and nearly scooped her up to toss her into the sewer waters but knew that would end badly for more than just him. Instead, with a grumble he silently excused himself from Vex and the Cistern, off to take care of a more _intimate_ business matter, his fantasy of Fiona still lingering in his mind.   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> say hello over on tumblr @ eeveevie (and prompt me for more bryn x fiona! :) )  
> kudos and comments are always appreciated :)


End file.
